


Paving the Yellow Brick Road: A Memoir

by ChelleBelle729



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:35:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleBelle729/pseuds/ChelleBelle729
Summary: Life is a journey with all kinds of twists and turns. Following our life path and finding our purpose can present challenges that require strength, perseverance, and support to get through and to learn and grow in the ways we might need. For an LGBTQIA person, these challenges can present through no fault of our own - simply being born gay can equate to struggle: a struggle for acceptance, love, support, or simply respect. But, like Anne Lister, “we rise above it.” The past 2 years of my life have largely been filled with this type of struggle, among others that had nothing to do with sexuality. There’s been a lot to rise above. Writing this has been cathartic and I hope it might provide others with guidance and support to find the strength to keep fighting for these things in their own lives.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, that’s the poor man’s house. Everybody get a look at the poor man’s house. Everywhere they went before must have turned them out. And now they’re livin’ in a poor man’s house.” --- Patty Griffin, Poor Man’s House

All of us - about 15 Social Workers, a few other support staff, and me - are loaded up onto the bus that will take us from the workplace to the work retreat location, which I remember being some wooded location with fresh air and greenery somewhere North of New York City. It is chilly and the leaves are changing. I am wearing a new sweater I bought recently from The Gap. I have my headphones on for the long ride, but I want to keep my ears open because I don’t want to miss any of the conversation going on in the seats around me. Patty Griffin is singing about the poor and I feel very passionate about this “social work” themed song and this singer. “Her lyrics are amazing!” I remember saying this to anyone who asked me what I was listening to. I also remember forcing the headphones onto several heads on the bus so that they could listen to this depressing song because it was “sooooo good.” I can hardly remember all of the details now, because it was almost 22 years ago, but I do remember feeling deeply connected to this group of people on this day. 

It was the fall of 1999 and I was a brand new NYU Social Work MSW intern assigned to Euclid Hall, a HUD building housing formerly homeless seniors. This senior housing came with a bonus: Social Services that were located on-site. This was a very immersive experience - both in terms of my work with the clients and my life with my fellow staff members. I’d often see my clients on the subway on my way to the office from my tiny studio apartment (expensive grad-student-housing I shared with a roommate). But the staff, they were a very rare, special bunch. My co-workers at Euclid Hall became the first experience that had ever felt like healthy familial love. They showered me with complete and utter acceptance and celebration of who I was. All the while, for the first time in my life, I was living alone (well, with a roommate I did not know) in a big huge city without any family within a 14-hour drive. It was all so stimulating and exciting, the amount of growth I was experiencing on a daily basis, because of an environment that was so rich with diversity. My emotions fluctuated between a state of elation and timid anxiety. I wouldn’t realize how lucky I was to be placed in the warm, open arms of the social work staff at Euclid Hall until the internship ended and a new one began the following year when I had to leave the safety-net of all of my friends and enter a totally different environment: the environment of a cold, sterile hospital and with mostly cold staff to match. But that first year, I was just beginning to sense the stirrings of my sexuality, my individuality, an adult life of my own, in whatever way I chose to shape it - with my own feelings, thoughts/beliefs, and attractions. I had no idea what to do with it all, but that was also the wonderful part.


	2. The Perfect Family

I met my wife at a time when I was happily single and confident that I would be alone for a while. I had officially ended a 10-year relationship several months before, but it had been a long, slow ending that felt like it had been over for much longer already. I had moved out the year prior and we gradually came to a conclusion. It was an amicable split; to this day we still behave very much like family to each other and always will, but we just don’t live together. It was a comfortable love, but at some point there was a slight change in course that ended up leading to a growing divide over time. I had begun to envision a relationship that was very different from her vision; and the final straw was that we had reached an impasse regarding marriage. 

Once it became legal, I felt very strongly that I wanted to marry and she was against it completely. She was willing to let me go so that I could have my vision, as she knew that she couldn’t share it with me without compromising herself. Perhaps she thought I would return once I broke away? While it was sad and painful to let go of something that was so familiar and safe, I was eventually ready to start building the relationship I envisioned with someone new.

That woman stepped into the room and onto an elevator with me on May 13, 2016 and something immediately shifted (besides the elevator). Something very palpable shifted inside of me and in my world. Heather had a shy smile but also an inner confidence mixed with a very attractive humility. I sensed a kind vulnerability and was drawn in. I instantly felt something deep and my heart had so many wonderful questions it wanted to ask and not enough time in this day to ask them. I took what I could get and we talked for hours into the late evening before she left. I was instantly sold and we slowly began a partnership that evolved into marriage 3 years later. My vision came to be.

A few months into dating, I met Heather’s family. Her parents are still married after 50 years. They live in a home filled with primitive antiques: old pottery jugs, wooden bread and mixing bowls, blue-glass bottles in the kitchen windowsill, carefully placed reminders of a time long-ago when people lived much simpler lives, absent of many signs of progress or technology. They appeared to be a very southern-small-town, warm, welcoming, kind bunch. The kind that invite you to come inside and stay for pie and coffee. As is often true in these parts, the thing that tends to get paired with “southern-small-town” is religion and this is very true for this family. The heart and soul of the bunch is Heather’s mother. She is the matriarch and the most religious of all of them. She never misses church - and to say it is a large part of her life, her social outlet, her purpose, is an understatement. She also always has good smells coming from the kitchen, always wants to hear about your day and know all of the details, always brings blankets to share at chilly high school football games, and is more than willing to share snacks from her purse. 

Shortly after my first introduction to Heather’s parents, she brought me to a large family cook-out; and even though I had an inkling that most of the people there didn’t approve of homosexual relationships, they were all so sugar-sweet to me that you’d never dream that they would judge - and if they did, they’d keep their lips tightly shut, as long as they weren’t forced to reckon with it out loud or face-to-face. They are good southerners. The rule seems to be to always try to make people feel welcome, even if you fundamentally disagree with who they are or how they live. 

I grew up in a chaotic, anxiety-ridden, “minimalist-nurturing” home. There was constant arguing, mainly between my mother and stepfather. The positives were that there was always music, good food (Mom was a great cook), sailing and going to the beach - and Mom and my stepfather had a large group of friends who often included me, a very mature teenager, in their gatherings. But, the downside was that there was a lot of drinking that led to anger and bitterness, and home was not necessarily a safe refuge. As the oldest of three, I became the responsible voice of reason who always took care of others and had to fend for myself when it came to getting my nurturing needs met. I’ve always longed for - craved, actually - a more “normal” and more loving, warm family environment. And here it was, at this cook-out with Heather’s family, at my fingertips. Could I really be invited in and inherit this gift? I was certainly beyond willing to give it my best effort. My heart fluttered with the possibility.

About a year into our relationship, we went on a trip to Santa Rosa Beach with Heather’s parents and her niece and nephew, both teenagers. At the time, I was overjoyed to have the opportunity to spend such quality time with people who had become quite endearing to me. We rented a 2-bedroom Airbnb with a pull-out sofa. Heather and I gave the king-sized bedroom to her parents and we slept together in a room with two double beds with her niece having one bed to herself while her nephew slept on the sofa. It was close-quarters, but it also allowed for closeness in other ways. It was a fun-filled time and I was in heaven. We all walked together on the beach in the evenings, searching for sand crabs. We enjoyed meals together at nearby restaurants. We went canoeing at the crystal-clear springs a short drive away. The entire trip had me walking on a cloud and as it came to a close, I felt like a kid leaving summer camp after life-changing summer bonding. I didn’t want it to end and I knew that the memory of this perfect time would stick with me forever, and it does.

Two years later, in the months leading up to our marriage, I was experiencing a number of major life struggles and changes. I had run into some pretty major safety concerns at work that were causing me a great deal of anxiety and stress. I was also engaging in a legal battle with a contractor who had abandoned several jobs on our dream house that we had just purchased; but the biggest struggle by far was that my mother had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease just a few years prior and she had rapidly declined. Her husband bore the brunt of the caregiving responsibilities, as they lived at about a 12-hour drive away. Mom was beginning to require 24-hour supervision and care. I was buzzing about my busy life, trying to keep from drowning in sadness over this tragic ending to her life and this loss of a major figure in mine. In Heather’s family, I had found a comfortable soft-spot to land. Even though I was going through such a painful loss, the blow was cushioned by the fact that I had this newfound family to tell me it was going to be ok. I knew deep-down that they probably didn’t believe in gay marriage, but at the time I was so desperate for the warmth and love of a family that I lived in denial that it might become an issue for us. At the same time, they seemed so ready and willing to accept me into the fold: I had a seat at the holiday dinner table and well-researched Christmas gifts with my name on them. Like everyone else, the details of my day were sought out; the blanket-and-snack sharing was extended to me as well. Honestly, it felt amazing - and I was lulled into and fell in love with each one of them. Looking back now, I can see that it was a perfect storm of desperation, longing, and sadness that led me to place this family on this pedestal of high esteem. I viewed them as a perfect family - and, in contrast to mine - this was an easy and inevitable mis-step.


	3. Understanding

About 6 months prior to our wedding date, I had dived head-first into wedding-planning bliss. After all, as a lesbian couple, we had only just won the fight for the right to marry a few short years ago and all that we had fought for over so many years of struggle was now coming true. I squealed with delight inside as I scheduled a photographer to take engagement photos, designed our invitations, and toured venues around town that might be a good fit for our reception party. It was a welcomed and necessary distraction away from my mother’s suffering and the other awful things that were happening around me. Also looming ever so heavily over the whole thing was the big question-mark about whether or not Heather’s family would have anything to do with our wedding plans. Heather indicated that she did not think they would want any part of it at all but agreed that they should be told and given the opportunity to respond. We were open to any level of involvement, or no involvement. At the very least, I felt it was wrong not to inform them of our plans to marry. Marriage is such an important family event in most people’s lives. I thought the idea of attending a family dinner might be acceptable to them and I really wanted Heather’s family to mingle with and get to know my family; this was important to me. I wanted my family to meet these warm, lovely people and learn more about Heather’s side. So, I fell back on what I had always used to get difficult messages across to those I cared about: writing. I composed a letter that I put in the regular mail along with a card. It went like this:

Jeff and Kathy,  
I have been torn regarding to how to approach you both about this matter, so I thought it best that I write to you to give you the proper time and space to think it over and discuss it, if needed.  
First, I want to say that I have really grown to love both of you, along with all of the extended family with whom I've interacted. I have such respect for all of you and I always enjoy my time with you. Every one of you have shown me such kindness and made me feel so welcome and loved. This also shows how much you all love Heather and perhaps are happy for her to find happiness with me. And I want you to know that I want nothing more than for Heather to be well cared for and to be happy.  
This is part of why I'm writing to you. As you know, we are purchasing a house. This is a big step, but we feel that, after 2 years together (and a cumulative 12 months living together) we are ready for it. We’ve also been having conversations about a more official, legal way to ensure that we both have full rights and ownership to the house and other possessions moving forward, should anything ever happen to either of us unexpectedly. After discussing it for a while, in February we decided to officially start planning to get married. We plan to wait until May 2019 to give us time to figure out a plan and prepare for a ceremony. We are thinking small and intimate, nothing grand (something on a beach somewhere). But we would both love to have some family and close friends in attendance if they would like to join us.  
Any time we’ve discussed any details, Heather has been nervous and unsure about how you both might respond to the news. She is also nervous about a ceremony and does not really know what that would be like or look like for her, so we are discussing various options (very private actual ceremony followed by a celebration vs having some friends/family also attend the ceremony). I know my family (father, brother) would want to attend in some capacity, but I want to respect Heather's feelings and find a way for her to be most comfortable. We don’t yet know what that will look like, but will work on it. It felt wrong to not reach out to you both to include you in on this as well (in whatever way you are most comfortable).  
There is no pressure at all for you to be involved, but I wanted to reach out to you as Heather's parents and family members I deeply respect. I also hope you know that I do respect whatever decisions you make regarding our plans - I learned long ago that you can love someone very dearly despite significant differences in beliefs/opinions.  
With Much Love,  
Michelle  
A few days later I received a response by email. It was titled “Understanding”: 

Heather and Michelle,

We received your letter, it was no surprise. We have talked about this a few times. As you know our beliefs are that marriage is a bond between a man and a woman. We do understand that your beliefs are different and we accept that. We have seen you together and feel that both of you have become very close and we accept that. We love both of y'all, and want to thank you guys for the way you have given us the time to work this out. In the future we can talk face to face about anything because we do love y'all. We are not judging you, y'all have our unconditional love.

Love you,

Jeff and Kathy

Some of the words, such as the “we believe marriage is between a man and a woman” part, did make me cringe internally, but overall I took this as a positive response. I wanted to hold on to any hope I could because I truly cared for them and had already envisioned being a part of their family. I was feeling very close to Heather’s mother in particular and I had fantasies of the kind of daughter-in-law I would try to be to her. I wanted to show her how I could help cultivate a good life for her daughter. I wanted to make her proud. I wanted to be the 2nd daughter she never had and do the types of things that Heather wasn’t really interested in doing with her mom such as sharing recipes, cooking together, or other more traditionally “girly” things a daughter might do with a mom. I let my mind and heart run wild with possibilities and I felt an excitement and a longing for this type of connection with someone I saw as such a strong nurturer. This was a very different type of mother than I was used to having around.


	4. It Takes A Village

My mother was fun. She had a passion for good music, good food, good friends, and a good fight. She could get fiery in an instant and after that the fun was pretty much over for everyone. She was a very independent woman; she didn’t need anyone, and after two divorces and two children, she married again, had another child, and built a solid business from the ground up. She was very busy doing business, so I became the woman of the house and was responsible for watching my two younger siblings. During my junior high and high school days, my weekends were spent at home doing chores and caring for my brother and sister while Mom and my stepfather went out with friends. I became the typical oldest child: responsible, sensible, mature for my age. I also didn’t have much of a social life, but this was also because I was awkward and uncomfortable in my own skin, even though I never had a hard time making friends and I had several nice, cute boys who showed interest in me. I hadn’t yet figured out that I was gay, so I spent most of my time split between obsessing about what others thought about me and wondering what was wrong with me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then around age 16, I didn’t realize it at the time, but I fell head-over-heals in love with an aerobics instructor at our local fitness center. We became the best of friends and I also babysat her children (she was in her early 30s) quite frequently. I wanted to spend every waking moment with her - and I actually did - up until the point that I left for college. It wasn’t until the summer before grad school that another encounter with this woman led me to come out to myself.

I was 22 and home for the summer, working several jobs to save money that I would need for living expenses once I went away to grad school in New York. I had reached out to my lady friend to let her know that I’d be in town for a little while and I would love to get together. She was receptive to this and we agreed to meet for dinner one evening. I imagined us picking up right where we left off and I couldn’t wait to see her. I put a great deal of thought into the evening and was about to walk out the door when she called to cancel because of something having to do with a guy she was dating. To put it mildly, I was devastated. I remember staring into space, feeling stunned with extreme disappointment after hanging up the phone. Only days later, while I was still lamenting the loss did I start to wonder, “why am I so devastated by this?” After all, it had been about 4 years or more since we’d hung out. She barely knew me at all anymore, nor I her. The feelings and questions started to bring into focus too much from my past. I had always gravitated towards strong, intense friendships with attractive females and I always seemed to want to spend more time with them than they did with me. I had never really had long-term relationships with guys and I was never, ever interested in being intimate in any way with them, but instead did so out of a perceived obligation. Yet when I would spend the night at this woman’s home, I would obsess about whether or not I would be invited to sleep in her bed with her (vs the couch) so that I could hug her goodnight and sleep next to her. It often worked out in my favor. Nothing beyond warm hugging in her bed ever occurred. I honestly don’t know how I would have reacted at the time if it had. 

I moved to Greenwich Village, NYC about a month later to attend NYU. I like to joke that the minute my feet hit city pavement for the first time, I began officially coming out. It isn’t all that much of a stretch, honestly. I had anticipated a sort of “re-inventing” of myself prior to my arrival. New York provided me with the freedom and the distance from family to finally totally be myself without looking over my shoulder to consider the expectations of others. It was a blissful two years in the city. I made a ton of friends, many were gay, but many were also straight but supportive. I had a few crushes, but wasn’t brave enough to make any advances toward dating anyone yet. I felt extremely under-developed as a human being in the area of intimate romantic relationships and I was going to need some time and to go very slow. Looking back now, I feel that this was very unfortunate because I had obviously landed in lesbian mecca. 

That winter, my Mom decided to come for a visit to the city to see me. My Mom may not have been much of a nurturer, but the one thing I can say about her is that she always supported my decisions without pressuring me to feel bad about them or to change my mind. I will say that I almost always made pretty good decisions, but I did often face questioning from other family members when those decisions were somewhat risky. Mom never questioned me, but instead offered cheerful encouragement. She seemed to instantly trust that I knew what was best for me or I would learn a valuable lesson from any mistakes. She had an adventurous spirit herself, so perhaps she identified with me in this way. She loved the city, so she was happy to have an excuse to get there again, and I guess I was a pretty good excuse. I was a little nervous about the visit, because I knew that she would sense some changes in me and I had determined that I was going to tell her I was gay at some point during her visit. Coming out to your parents is huge, but I had a newfound confidence in myself and Mom being a cheerleader of my decisions made me think that she might not take it too badly.  
Several of the staff members at Euclid Hall, my 1st-year internship, were gay or totally gay-friendly and extremely good role models on how to live a healthy, normal life as a gay person in a world that was still struggling to fully embrace such diversity. All of the staff welcomed me with open minds, hearts, and arms and celebrated and encouraged my journey. In that group of Social Workers, I learned the meaning of family for the first time really, and it felt amazing. When Mom came to visit, there happened to be a workplace holiday party going on that weekend, hosted by one of my favorite people at the agency. Of course my invitation extended to my mother, without question, and Mom fit in very nicely at the party. We drank, talked, laughed, and thoroughly enjoyed the evening with everyone. They made her feel special and cared for, just like they did for me. 

After the party, Mom and I walked several long blocks home to my apartment in the Village. We walked arm-in-arm in the chilly night air, blissfully reliving the evening’s highlights. Mom indicated how much she enjoyed everyone and we went name-by-name through the list of attendees and details of their personalities and contributions to the party. After the names of certain individuals came up, I would carefully interject, “he’s gay” or “she’s gay” and Mom would acknowledge (with a smile) that yes, she might have guessed this already. While still walking and after several of these interjections, I looked straight ahead and said to her, “What would you think if I was too?” Mom didn’t stop. She didn’t shutter. She didn’t sigh. She simply looked at me with loving eyes and said, “I would want for you whatever makes you happiest in life.” I remember feeling overjoyed inside as we continued to make our way home. We made it to my apartment and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning in deep, meaningful conversation. It was one of the best nights of my life.


	5. The Ring

The months went by and the wedding planning continued, all while the other stressors at work and with our new home continued to worsen. Then Mom was moved to a memory care facility, which was another big blow. Slowly my ability to communicate with her dwindled completely. She was no longer able to operate a cell phone and her sentences were becoming more and more jumbled and incoherent. I decided I’d better travel to Florida to see her before her condition deteriorated past the point of no return. 

A few weeks later, I arrived at Mom’s facility and waited in the front room to be buzzed in to the main lobby area. As soon as I walked in, I saw Mom sitting at a small round table near the middle of the room. She looked up as I approached the table and smiled a huge smile. She took an excited breath and stood up, motioning to the nursing staff. “Look you guys, it is my sister!” The nursing staff were aware that I was visiting that day and they carefully corrected her. “Isn’t this your daughter, Trish?” “Oh yes, my daughter!” Mom was dressed as if she was ready for a night out on the town. It was obvious that she had also applied her own make up that day, as she looked as if she’d used black mascara on her eyebrows and too much eye shadow and rouge. She had always loved clothes and jewelry, and always cared a lot about how she looked. As I looked more closely, I noticed that she was wearing more than one top, layered oddly on top of another. She also had multiple dangling earrings in each hole and costume rings on nearly every finger. She was cradling a life-like baby-doll in her arms. I smiled and sweetly said how good it was to see her and asked, “Who is this you have here?” Mom said, “This is my baby. He has been so good today. He’s a really good baby.” She was very serious about her baby. I had been warned about the doll ahead of time, which I greatly appreciated in this moment. I had worked in Geriatric Psych in the past and was familiar with the comfort that baby dolls can bring to patients suffering from all types of dementia, but I never really thought I’d find Mom cradling one and talking as if it was a real live baby. As I looked more closely at the doll, I noticed that there appeared to be some crumbs of food around the mouth hole where the toy baby bottle tip was to be placed, as if someone had tried to feed the doll real food and the crumbs got stuck. 

We sat together at the table: Mom, her baby, and me, and we talked as best we could. At this point, Mom was struggling to get her ideas out and her memory was mostly unreliable. Mom took me on a brief tour of the facility and I asked her to show me her room, which she did. It had been nicely decorated by her husband, Rob, and close friends. There were numerous pictures of all of us kids and other family on her dresser and at various places throughout the small bedroom. She proudly moved around the room showing me different outfits in her closet and quickly moving to other random items. Several times she would look for items to show me and get lost in the looking. It is common for other residents to go into each other’s rooms and take things that aren’t theirs because they forget and think that they are in their own rooms. It was hard to determine if Mom’s items were taken by others or misplaced by her. After about an hour, I was pretty emotionally exhausted and it was time for her evening meal, so I decided that the distraction of dinner time was a good time to leave. I explained to Mom that I would be back the next day and she seemed excited and happy about this news.

I stayed in the area for several days and visited Mom each day, often multiples times throughout the day. She seemed cheerful and talkative most of the time, but sometimes she would become distraught and tearful for no apparent reason and it was difficult to console or calm her. She continued to struggle with her words and forming coherent sentences, but often I could interpret the sentiment behind what she was trying to say to me. Sometimes I couldn’t understand at all, but would have to sort of pretend and let it go. These visits were precious to me, as I knew that they were likely the last twinklings I would get of what was left of Mom. I tried to cherish the moments, but I was also deeply saddened and trying my very best not to allow myself to slip into a deep depression. I was barely keeping my head above water with each passing day. To experience this young, vibrant, 65 year old woman wither away while still being alive was beyond gut-wrenching.

On the day I had to leave to return home, I came by for a last visit. Mom was sitting at the same round table with her baby when I walked in. She was dressed in multiple layers again, but seemed happy and proud of her outfit. Knowing I was about to have to leave, I was holding back tears much of the time, but trying not to let her notice by keeping a cheerful voice and demeanor. I noticed this day that she was wearing a ring - a very special ring - and my eyes stopped and focused on it immediately. It was a small pinky ring made of quality gold and shaped in the form of an Egyptian ankh, a symbol for “life.” This was a ring that Mom wore every day of her life from the time that I was a baby to this day that I noticed her wearing it in the facility. Dad later told me that he was with her when she got it and it was some time in the early-to-mid 1970s. I reached for Mom’s hand and told her how much I loved her ring. She smiled and said, “Yes, it is one of my favorites.” I asked, “Can I try it on?” I was being sneaky, but this was very important and I felt a sense of urgency like it was now or never or this ring could potentially be lost forever. I was surprised it wasn’t already gone. Mom smiled sweetly and said, “sure, darling.” She slipped it off of her finger and placed it innocently on the table in front of me, then went back to cooing to her baby. I placed the ring on my finger and held my hand out to look at it. I saw my own mother’s hand, as our hands were almost identical. I thought to myself, “Should I take this? Is it right to do this?” I felt guilty about it and I worried that she would get distraught and miss it; after all, she’d worn it for at least 42 years or more. As I sat there with her, it became clear that she did not remember handing it to me. I kept it on throughout the rest of our visit. Soon it came time for me to leave her. We were standing in her room together and she was proudly showing me some of her pictures again. I began to struggle with holding back tears as I said, “Mom, I need to go now, okay?” I wasn’t going to say anything about not coming back for a while; she would not remember. She looked at me and saw I was welling up and my voice was breaking. She gave me the biggest, warmest hug I think she’s ever given me in my lifetime. I can still feel her hand firmly on my back and then rubbing it to comfort me. “It is going to be okay darling, don’t be upset.” I whispered and nodded, “Okay Momma.” She walked me out into the hallway and the staff saw that I was upset. One of the nurses comforted me and started to say, reassuringly, “Your Mom is doing okay, she’s doing fine here.” I was sobbing and explained that I had to leave and that she likely wouldn’t remember me the next time I saw her. The nurse just hugged me tightly and said, “I know baby.” I left and sobbed in my car until I could stop long enough to begin the long lonely 11-hour drive back to Alabama.

It was the last time I’d see Mom alive. I wore her ring on my wedding day. That ring and her old record albums are the items of hers that I cherish the most.


	6. Don't Send Pictures...

About 6 months prior to our wedding date, I had the announcements ready to send. They featured some of our engagement photos; these were photos of us sitting on our back deck with our dog, standing together in front of our house, and posing in various old brick-walkways and alleys, places around downtown Huntsville, Alabama. In some photos we are leaning on each other, but there was no hand-holding or, heaven forbid, any kissing or staring longingly into each other’s eyes in any of these photos. We intentionally made sure to leave these gestures out so that perhaps more family members would feel comfortable displaying them on their refrigerators or even framing some of these photos to set out along side other family photos. Also, we really aren’t big fans of public displays of affection anyway. A big part of that was likely influenced by the fact that we lived in the bible-belt and had every reason to be fearful of the potential for aggression from strangers who may be homophobic. Sadly we are accustomed to keeping our affection for each other to a minimum when we are in public and especially when we are around certain family members. It isn’t something we are even always conscious of anymore; it is just the way things have been for a really long time.

I loved our photos. We had a great rapport with the photographer and she captured the spirit of our relationship perfectly. I was also excited and proud to finally be moving closer to the big day. I decided to pick a few of the best ones and send them in an email to Heather’s parents again, to update them on our plans and briefly inquire about any willingness to participate. It was a light, innocent, genuine email. In it, I mentioned that these photos would be featured in some announcements I was having made to send out to family. 

The next day, Heather called me into the living room after receiving an email from her mother. She looked at me with warm, caring, sad eyes. She said delicately and with pause, “I got an email from Mom.” I waited in anticipation to hear what it said. “Uh oh. This can’t be good.”

She read it to me. These were the exact words:

Heather, please read this email from Michelle. 

The way we feel is whatever you decide is between you and Michelle. In good conscious your dad and I can not attend any of of these plans. Remember we love you and love Michelle. Also, Heather we need you to think really hard before you send save the date invitations and pictures to our family. I truly hope you don’t. Your dad and I do understand the legal part of what you are doing but our beliefs tell us a gay marriage is wrong. But, no matter what we love you so much and will always be here for you.

Mom and Dad

Don’t send pictures to family. This one stung. I felt my heart cracking and the pedestal on which I had them came crashing down, down, down. It was the harshest reality.

\----------

Over the coming days and weeks, my hurt slowly festered into anger. I began stewing and got pretty depressed. My thoughts raced and I couldn’t stop thinking about the words in her email in contrast to the feelings of love I had been experiencing for this family. I thought, “we are adult women in our 40s and no one will tell us who can or can’t receive announcements or photos from us!” I was also upset that she didn’t respond to my email, but instead wrote to Heather as if I was keeping Heather out of the loop and she was telling on me: “read this email from Michelle.” And what I really couldn’t get over was the deep, overwhelming sense of shame I felt that she had about us. It was extremely obvious to me that this was about her shame. She was ashamed for family members to see us or to see our wedding announcements. That is what hurt and angered me the most, that she was telling us to hide ourselves. How could someone who seemed to care for me treat us this way? I was in utter emotional shock and disbelief.

As time went on, I couldn’t bare to interact with the family. I attended one or two family gatherings and felt extremely uncomfortable in their presence. I couldn’t make eye contact and did not wish to speak, so it all was pretty awkward. Inevitably, as family events kept coming up, eventually I just couldn’t bring myself to attend. It all started to bother Heather a great deal too, but she was somehow able to carry on; I simply couldn’t move past it. 

Eventually things came to a head and I unleashed a fury of words on facebook just before Christmas. Here is what I posted:

December 21st 2018:

A note on holiday time for LGBTQ people:  
I can respect someone's religious beliefs about gay marriage, even though I disagree and it is deeply personal to me. I can still love you and "agree to disagree" about your beliefs. I don't want or need to try to change your beliefs because they are yours, not mine and I don't feel the need to control what you think. I AM indeed allowed to have feelings (great sadness, hurt, even anger) about those beliefs and the judgment and misperceptions about me that I feel come along with them. My responsibility to myself is to decide how I will choose to navigate my relationship with you based on what I know about how you feel about my life. That process usually takes me some time to work out. However, when I am asked to hide in order to make others more comfortable because of your beliefs (which are not mine) - not only is this profoundly disrespectful of me and the person I love, but imbedded in that request is the assumption that everyone else we are being asked to hide from feels exactly as you do about my family. There is an assumption that we "should be ashamed" of ourselves (thus the need for us to hide) and that everyone else thinks so too (because, why wouldn't they? Isn't this how everyone feels?). The fact is, beliefs/opinions about gay marriage and LGBTQ people have changed dramatically over the past decade and people's opinions can vary greatly, even within family systems. This "you should be ashamed and hide" request is so very hurtful and shaming - the exact opposite of unconditional love and respect. Through talks with many of my friends, I've discovered that this type of thing is SO common in the deep South - many gay people here have grown used to having to "act straight" around family or, for example, let it slide when being introduced as "friends" (we are not friends and everyone knows this!) by their family members who, because of their own discomforts or lack of awareness choose to deny respect and dignity to their own blood and the partner they love. Many gay couples here in the Bible belt spend holidays separated from each other because they make the difficult choice to keep their family members "comfortable" by sacrificing their own needs in order to avoid conflict (for those of you identifying with this scenario, please know that I'm not judging; I know it is complicated and so painful to face that conflict). Some who have come out to their families have faced such painful wrath of judgment and hate of who they are that they are forever traumatized by the experiences and just can't go through it anymore or ever again. Some just choose not to talk about their lives with family (How sad! How can you remain close when you can't share the details of your life? of your experiences, love, home, losses, sadnesses?). This is real, people. This is hurtful. This request to hide seems based in a lack of understanding, anxiety, perhaps a desire to control, refusal to respect what is already obvious to everyone and is not going to change. I came out exactly 20 years ago after a long struggle to accept an identity that I knew would be judged negatively by both those who knew me and those who didn't. Today I choose to surround myself with those who show me true unconditional love because it just feels so much better. I'm a good person who has worked hard to build a really nice life for myself and to share with my partner (now my fiancé!). I want nothing more than to be warm and close with family, to share good times, be there for one another, and to be loved and give love. However, I don't take kindly to being asked to hide by those who supposedly love me just so that they don't have to experience some discomfort about something of which they have no real true understanding. When your belief is used to justify hurtful actions or to set "rules" that very much impact me and the person I love, this is where a line must be drawn.

Apparently, Heather’s mom read this post and read between the lines. She called Heather sounding upset, but Heather was at work at the time and couldn't talk to her about it. I believe it was the next day and I was home on leave from work after an extremely stressful experience involving a mental health patient. I was feeling overwhelmed with sadness, anxiety, and depression related to all of the terrible things going on in my life. There was a knock at the door and it was Heather’s dad. I was shocked to see him and really did not feel like speaking, but he was calm, and with a caring voice asked to come in and talk. I was still in my pajamas, but let him in. We sat at the kitchen counter for about 2 hours and talked openly about everything. I expressed my hurt, anger, sadness, shock and disbelief over Heather’s mother’s response. I expressed my feelings about them as a family and how much it saddened me that Heather’s mother appeared to be so ashamed of us. He expressed understanding and indicated that he was fully supportive of us and that it was Heather’s mom that really struggled with her religious beliefs about it. I was surprised that he was willing to reach out to us in this way and speak so openly about how his beliefs were different from those of his wife. We began to talk about ways that I might be more comfortable interacting with the family again. We discussed the fact that there have been times when I’ve been introduced as a “friend” and that I will be correcting this openly from now on if it continues to happen. He asked me how I would like to be introduced and vowed to do this from now on. The conversation made me feel heard and understood - and, if nothing else - it provided me with an anchor, an ally in the family to lean on and to trust with my feelings. It allowed me some opening to start to let the anger and hurt out and try to heal. I began the process of trying to accept what I could not change with still some hope that we could forge our own path within the family. A path of respect, at the very least. Unfortunately, this would prove to be short-lived. 


	7. Dolphins

Our wedding date was May 9th, 2019. We had everything planned and ready. We planned to leave for Key West, FL on the morning of May 8th, arrive around noon and settle in to our Airbnb. We had our clothing picked out, flowers ordered (Hawaiian white leis to wear around our necks - a nod of remembrance for my younger sister, Courtney, who disappeared in Hawaii in 2004), a photographer reserved, and a post-wedding stay in lovely nearby Islamorada set. My brother was flying in from San Diego the evening of our arrival. 

Around April 12th, I got a call from Mom’s husband, Rob. He explained that Mom had been declining rapidly over the last couple weeks and the decision had been made to place her on Hospice. The prognosis was about 6 months. April 22nd he called again. Mom had a blister on her heal - a bed sore. Her skin was beginning to break down. Her health was deteriorating. I debated whether or not to travel to her. There was so much happening at once and it was so close to the wedding date. There was no way to know how long she might hold on, and at this point the person laying in the bed barely resembled Mom in any way. She did not recognize Rob and could become angry and combative, at times. She was not able to communicate. I thought about it very carefully and decided that I would stay put. I struggled with the decision, but ultimately decided that my last memory of her (and of that hug) would be better than seeing her in this condition. It was a painful decision, but one that I don’t regret. May 1st came and Mom developed a fever. I received texts from Rob regularly: “there’s nothing you can do for her. I’m here, holding her hand. She’s comfortable.” Me: “Tell her I love her!”

On May 3rd, just 6 days before our wedding day, the call came. I was at work; it was just a regular day providing psychotherapy to military veterans. I had a cancellation and was sitting at my desk when my phone rang. I saw the call was from Rob. I answered and he just said, “I’m sorry Michelle, but she’s gone.” His voice broke as he explained that she had peacefully passed and that he was by her side, holding her hand. We talked briefly, I held it together as best I could for the conversation. After I hung up, I messaged a co-worker and told her that I had to leave immediately and why. Seconds later she presented at my office door as I opened it to leave. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tight while whispering, “I’m so sorry!” in my ear. At that point, I lost it, sobbing loudly in the office hallway. I know others heard me but I didn’t, couldn’t care. It was primal. It came from deep down inside and was forcing itself out. We stood there for a few minutes, me rocking in my co-workers arms, until I was able to compose myself enough to leave. I caught my breath, wiped my eyes, and ran out the door to my car. This co-worker wasn’t a close friend, but I’ll never forget her immediate kindness in that moment. 

I arrived home, alone. It was around 10am. Heather was at the hospital working and couldn’t get away. I called my brother and other family members to share in the sadness and loss, and to be comforted and feel their support and return it. There were many unanswered questions: Would we still go on with the wedding? Would there be a funeral soon? 

That afternoon Rob and I spoke again and plans were coming together. We would continue on with the wedding; Mom would want us to do so. Mom would be cremated (as was her wish) and we would have a memorial service some time later, perhaps in a few weeks. This also would allow time for planning and flights for my brother, his daughter, and his wife to make travel plans to attend the service. This plan seemed to work for everyone and we all were able to come to the agreement together. 

It was all surreal. I had never experienced a loss like this. How could it be that I would never speak to Mom again? To hear her voice on the phone saying, “Hi Michelley, it’s your Momma.” I kept thinking how so very weird death is. That one day a person can be a living, breathing being, and the next just disappear forever, never to be seen or heard again. And it had happened to my own mother. No way. Just no freaking way.

So, just a short 5 days after Mom’s death, we boarded the flight to our wedding destination. And 6 days after her death, I experienced the best day of my life. The big swing of emotion was almost enough to make my head spin, but somehow I was able to find calm, be at peace, and focus on our exciting time together.

May 9, 2019: We woke up snuggled together in a cozy Airbnb in the heart of Key West. We rode bikes to breakfast: a quaint cafe with delicious lattes, sweet and savory crepes, and outside dining. We returned from breakfast to find our fresh leis had been delivered. Next we had a spa day planned: manicures, pedicures, and hair styling at a local spa just down the street. We enjoyed wine while we were pampered. It was nice to speak freely with strangers about our wedding plans and the excitement of the day, and for them to express excitement for us as they would for any couple getting married. Afterwards, we met my brother and the photographer for a photo session before leaving on our sunset sail on a 65 ft sailboat. The Captain would marry us after sailing us around Key West, all while eating hors d’oeuvres and drinking various wines as the sun set in the Gulf of Mexico. 

The photo shoot went very well, even though it was a very hot 2 hours in the afternoon. We hoped our hair would hold up for the rest of the evening, as the wedding hadn’t even happened yet. Throughout the shoot, the photographer would pose us in beautiful, scenic places and snap away with her camera, all while saying, “look at her, look at me, look at her, look at me.” We had done all of it before when we had the engagement photos taken, so we were fairly well-practiced. At one point, while standing in the middle of a beautiful garden landscape, the photographer was instructing us to lovingly look at one another yet again. Heather muttered under her breath, with a big smile while looking at me with loving eyes, “I’m so tired of looking at you!” This made me crack up and I threw my head in the air with a big laugh. This photo of the big laugh with Heather smiling next to me turned out to be one of my favorite photos from that day.

After the photo shoot, we headed to the sailboat. When we checked in to Danger Charters, we were told that our Captain for the evening would be someone by the name of Janet. We had been told that someone would be assigned to us and that it could be a man or a woman. Heather was thrilled that our ceremony would be performed by a female. Next, Janet came in and introduced herself to us and Heather expressed her excitement. Janet looked relieved and said that she was very glad to hear that we were happy because in the past some couples had expressed disappointment about being married by a female. We instantly connected over this story and it made us want to support and celebrate Janet as our officiant/Captain and, in turn it felt like she instantly supported us as well. 

We boarded the sailboat and got underway around 4:30pm. It was a beautiful afternoon with a cloudless sky. It felt very nostalgic for me to be on a sailboat again, since I’d spent so much of my time on sailboats growing up with both Mom and my Dad owning boats separately. My most cherished memories were sailing in Florida with Mom, my brother and his dad, and my sister on our 30-foot sailboat. We were even taken out of school for a month when I was in the 9th grade and we all sailed to the Bahamas, spending time stopping at all of the islands, and eventually sailing back to South Florida at the end of the trip. Here we were again and my brother and I felt like it was old times, only Mom wasn’t there with us. He and I both love to sail when we are able to now and he seemed to really enjoy being on such a lovely boat. My brother is also very loving and supportive, so he was happy to be with us on our wedding day. I felt emotions welling up inside, but I tried to keep my make-up intact and instead focused on Heather, the food, the wine, the ocean. I knew the evening would fly by, and it did. 

The ceremony was supposed to take place at sunset, however Janet explained to us that we might want to consider doing it earlier so that we could enjoy the sail and still have the sunset for photographs and relaxation afterwards. We promptly agreed with her and told her that we were ready. Janet said that she would get the boat to a place where she could let someone else take the wheel and then we would start. I started to feel really nervous, but Heather seemed so calm and steady. Janet pulled out a binder and started to recite her lines. 

“I would like to welcome all of you as we witness Michelle and Heather exchange their wedding vows today. A successful, loving marriage is greater than the bounds of a legal document. It is the sum of each day’s diligence and loyalty to one another amidst the challenges of a chaotic world. It is the result of the creative and loving invention to fulfill the promises each has made to the other on their wedding day. 

What began as friendship awakened two hearts, and so we are here today to witness the marriage of Michelle and Heather. They have decided to publicly commit to one another, to pledge their love and loyalty to each other; and to state their intention to bring the best of who they are into each moment of the life they begin today as wife and wife. We offer them our wishes for their journey to be smooth.”

We joined hands.

“Michelle and Heather, have you come to this moment by your own will, happy and with the intention to live one life together?” 

We have.

“Michelle, repeat after me:   
I, Michelle, choose you, Heather to be my partner in marriage. I promise to cherish and accept you and delight in who you are becoming. I promise to support and love you in sickness and in health, in good times and bad. With all my heart, I promise to be your lover, your partner, your friend. Heather…repeat after me…”

“And now the rings. Michelle, please place the ring on Heather’s finger and repeat after me:  
Let this ring’s endless circle  
be a symbol of my love and devotion  
to you and to our marriage

Heather, please place the ring on Michelle’s finger and repeat after me:

Let this ring’s endless circle  
be a symbol of my love and devotion  
to you and to our marriage

As the sun sets each evening and rises again each morning, so may your life together be filled with sweet endings and new beginnings. May the two of you bask in the light of each other’s eyes and be warmed in the embrace of each other’s arms. And may your hearts grow ever brighter and stronger because of the days you will share.

Michelle and Heather, by the power vested in me by the State of Florida, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may now kiss.”

My eyes were filled with tears, as I could hardly speak my vows when it had been my turn. Heather was perfectly composed and she spoke her vows to me with such sincerity in her voice and her eyes, and this only made me cry more. We kissed and embraced for a moment. Janet came over to us and congratulated us with a hug. She reached and supportively grabbed my arm and said with a slight chuckle, “Michelle, do you think you’ll make it?” We all laughed a little. I told her yes, that they were happy tears, mostly. I explained that the day was just very emotional for me and I whispered to her about Mom. She expressed her sorrow and then said, “I know she’d be very proud of you right now.” As soon as she said these words, we heard a commotion from the others on the boat and saw them pointing into the water in what seemed like every direction. It took a moment, but I looked out into the water and saw that the boat was surrounded by dolphins frolicking and playing. Growing up, it was always so special when we would often see dolphins while sailing with Mom, but I have never seen so many dolphins at once in my entire life. My brother and I stood together and cried and pointed. We saw what looked like a momma and a baby swimming playfully in the water. We were all in awe over what was happening around us. Then Janet turned to me and said, “that’s your Mom sweetie. She’s here with you today.” There was no doubt in my mind that indeed Mom was with us in those moments. It was a beautiful ending to our ceremony and all of us on the boat that day will never forget it.

I’ve had friends tell me that “visits” from certain animals can mean something. I’ve always been very skeptical and thought of myself as more of a realist when it came to beliefs like that. Later that evening, I looked up what a visit by dolphins might mean. Here’s what I read:

Dolphins are both a symbol of love and healing. Therefore, dolphins have a spiritual connection to the idea of not only life and death but spiritual renewal and rebirth as well. For many Christians and Native Americans, dolphins symbolize protection as well as good luck.

After the wedding, Heather and I spent several days in Islamorada at a resort called The Moorings. It was the same place where the show “Bloodline” was filmed. The Moorings is a very peaceful relaxing getaway. The rules are that no cell phones are allowed on the grounds outside of your cottage and this is to encourage “unplugging.” And unplugging we did. We rode bikes to a local brewery, enjoyed several delicious meals at local spots (Pierre’s was life-altering), lounged in the hammocks by the water, and swam in the gorgeous pool. It was a lovely spot to relax and enjoy our first moments of marriage before heading back home. I thought of Mom often throughout our time there, and again I felt at peace. I strongly felt her pride, warmth, and love for me and still feel this when I think of her, which is often.


	8. The Great Divide

In the weeks that followed the kitchen meeting with Heather’s father, there was an attempt on both sides to make peace. Almost every week, there would be one reason or another (band performances or soccer games for a niece and nephew) to travel the 45 minutes to Heather’s family’s home in Athens, AL. I tried to feel the same way about them as I had before, but I couldn’t make those feelings come. My heart wouldn’t open up all the way again. In their presence now, I felt vulnerable, judged. I saw them all very differently. I no longer felt the unconditional love that I once did. Now it felt very conditional and I didn’t trust that they were genuine in their niceties towards me. I didn’t know how to respond. The connections between us now felt very awkward, strained.

About 3 weeks after our wedding, we threw a big reception/celebration party for our family and friends in Huntsville near our home. We rented a really rustic, fun place called The Lumberyard and hired a band called “Believe It Or Yacht.” The venue had a stage, along with a large dining area with tables and enough room for a large buffet-style meal to be spread. We invited everyone to wear their favorite “yacht-y” attire, whatever they might wear on a yacht. One of my best friends took care of the decorating and she was so creative, so talented. There were candles everywhere, a large life-ring for everyone to sign for us, yacht-themed flags, lanterns, and anchors. About 120 of our friends and family showed up looking so cute in shirts with boats or palm trees, captains hats, fun polos with anchors. Some of Heather’s cousins, two aunts, and Heather’s sister-in-law (who made a very brief appearance) attended. My entire family came, including my father who told me repeatedly, all night long, “I’m so proud of you.” We danced a father-daughter dance that made me cry. The band was out-of-this-world. They played yacht rock the entire night and these were all of mine and Heather’s favorite songs: songs like Gerry Rafferty’s “Baker Street”, Fleetwood Mac, Hall and Oates, and Christopher Cross’s “Sailing.” They even learned “our” song for our wedding dance, which was Ambrosia’s “Biggest Part of Me.” We loved every song and the band was definitely the highlight of the evening. There was an open bar featuring our signature drink (really strong pina coladas), so everyone got pretty tipsy and enjoyed dancing on the dance floor. The food was delicious, a medley of our favorite Mexican dishes and for dessert, a donut wall that had “donut mind if ‘I DO’” decorated on it with donuts that were made to look like life rings. We also had a “Magic Mirror” photo booth that looked like the entrance to a cruise ship and all of the attendees took crazy, fun photos with props (captain’s hats, sunglasses, signs that said silly things). The night could not have gone better and was the second best night of my life. I was high on the fun for weeks following the event.

The next day, I received a text message from Heather’s father. It said, “Good morning, just wanted to let y'all know that I'm sorry I could not be with you last night. Love dad or Jeff.” I wrote back, “(heart) love you. Would have loved to have you there, but do understand. Look forward to Ireland with you. You would have LOVED the band so much!” It made me sad, mainly sad for Heather. And sad that he couldn’t find the strength to still come if he really wanted to, even if Heather’s mother disapproved. It would have meant so much to both of us to have had at least one of her parents present. 

I wasn’t sad for long because we had just had the perfect wedding and the perfect party and I wanted to revel in those experiences for as long as possible. Both events were just right for us. They reflected our personalities and our relationship so well. I definitely felt that there was nothing at all that I would have changed about any of it. But as we slowly returned to our normal life and routines again, our focus seemed to change toward our future life together more specifically. Heather knew that I was very unhappy with my job; we both weren’t happy with what was happening with what was supposed to be our dream home, and we were seriously struggling with our connections with Heather’s family. So, we began to discuss the possibility of making some major changes; should we change jobs? Were we open to discussing moving, even though we had only been living in our home for about a year? We decided that the answers to both questions were yes. Being on the sailboat in Key West made me remember what it used to be like to live near the water and enjoy the relaxing lifestyle that coastal-living brings. Heather had frequently talked about a desire to live near the beach, eventually, and we both started to dream about this more. Slowly, we both began to open our minds to the idea of leaving Huntsville. The main reason we had decided on living in Huntsville to begin with was to be close to Heather’s family; Huntsville was Heather’s home for all of her life, but it wasn’t mine and so far it wasn’t going so well there. In fact, so far most areas of my life there were in turmoil. The dream home we had just had refurbished was nothing but a major stressor, as we had daily battles with a corrupt contractor who left our home with unfinished work and open permits that required us to pay large sums of money to finish and close, money we had already paid to the contractor. I was dealing with lawyers and throwing more money at the problem instead of the problem being fixed. My job transfer to Huntsville put me in a nightmare position in which I was exposed to mental health patients who were in constant crisis and were often angry and violent. The clinic where I worked was not safe and clinic leadership was poor, so my concerns and complaints were falling on deaf ears. Additionally, I was still grieving the loss of Mom and was struggling to connect with what family I had left, all of whom lived in other states. And on top of those stressors, the hardest for me to deal with, by far, was the continued struggle regarding how to feel about and connect with Heather’s family. So, soon after our wedding celebration party, I began applying for transfers to coastal locations. The process would take weeks, even months, and we agreed to just get started by putting some feelers out there to see which opportunities might arise first. 

Despite all that was going on, Heather and I had planned a trip abroad in celebration of our wedding; it was more of an actual honeymoon for the two of us. We planned to travel to my favorite place on Earth: Ireland, and take a few days to enjoy London, England. Heather had never been abroad and I was excited to show her some of my favorite places. When we had started planning for the trip (about 8 months prior), things were going really well with her family at that time. We had just enjoyed a lovely long holiday weekend at the beach with her parents and I was feeling very close to all of them. I was also aware that Heather’s parents had never left the US before. This seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for them to do that, and I felt that it would be nice for them to go with us because I know both countries very well and would be able to help them plan and navigate once we got there. I will admit that I also had some fantasies that broadening their exposure to other cultures, other countries, might also broaden their minds in other ways, potentially. But overall, I did think of it at the time mainly as an opportunity for us all to spend quality time together and I had been very invested in strengthening my relationships with them. It was all very naive, but also innocent and genuine. Somehow Heather’s brother, Kain, his wife Dana, and their two teenagers ended up joining in on the trip planning as well. Mind you, they were all oblivious to the fact that this would be taking place after our wedding, so they never really made the connection that it was any kind of honeymoon or romantic getaway for us. To all of them, this was the family trip of a lifetime.

Needless to say, the trip did not go well. First of all, the trip took place in June and everywhere we went we saw flags for gay pride month decorating windows of shops and restaurants. Banners hung in the streets, posters were displayed in subways and on buses. We stopped in Boston for the day and had a few hours to site-see before our international flights took off and all of us took a bus tour. There were rainbows everywhere. I was thoroughly enjoying it and did not stifle my enjoyment at all for them (I wasn’t boastful either - just allowed myself to react as I normally would). Heather’s family members weren’t thrilled and it was fairly obvious. Once we arrived in Ireland and then again in London, it was the same thing: rainbow everywhere. I photographed every large display I saw and proudly posted photos on facebook in celebration. I am not ashamed and will never be made to feel ashamed of who I am. 

I’m unsure if the pride stuff started to get to them or if it was just some of the stress of travel, but throughout the trip there were some personality clashes and negativity. Heather’s sister-in-law attempted to control the schedule almost every day, something that did not sit well with most of us. No one else really wanted to blatantly go against her wishes (she can be forceful and the others tend to bend to her wishes), but I knew the country well and knew which events Heather and I would enjoy most, as I had already done much of the itinerary we had planned, so Heather and I stood our ground and went against Dana’s wishes some of the time. Pretty quickly, it seemed someone in the group just stopped including us in the plans for the day. Despite our efforts to ask what everyone was doing each morning, we were usually left in the dark. There were times when we happened to meet up with the family shopping in Temple Bar, but most of the time we made a conscious decision to go our own way and have fun, just the two of us. We were content either way and Heather and I ended up having the most fabulous time despite all of them and their attitudes.

It came time to fly home and here we were all together again in the airport. Heather’s brother and his family took different flights home, so we became separated from them, while Heather’s parents stayed with us because we had flights home together. We stopped for a meal prior to boarding and this was when Heather’s mom decided to make statements trying to make us feel guilty for not spending more time with family: “I wish you had spent more time with all of us, but you all seemed content to keep to yourselves.” This lit a fire in me and in Heather because each day we had made a concerted effort to try to get with the family but we were ignored. It eventually began to feel very intentional and very mean-spirited. Instead of getting our feelings hurt and having it negatively impact our trip, we had made a decision not to let anything bother us. These comments from Heather’s mom were like a bold slap in our faces. I decided I’d better finish my meal and separate myself from Jeff and Kathy before I said something I might later regret. So, this is what I did. I sat a few seats away from Kathy and quietly read while waiting for the flight to board. 

We made the long journey home which was an 8+ hour flight into Nashville, followed by a 2+ hour drive home to Alabama, never mind the time we had to get up, check out of our Airbnb, and get to the airport early. The change in time zones did a number on us as well, so the car ride home was quiet and somewhat tense. I did my best to remain polite, but I was literally running on very little energy and even less patience or tolerance. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and ready to be home and crawl into my own bed. We dropped Jeff and Kathy off at their house and drove the 45 minutes home to our house. As we crawled into bed, I made a quick check of facebook, and could not believe what I saw.

There, posted on Kathy’s page, was a meme that said, “Just because man makes something legal does not mean it is not a sin in the eyes of God.” Above it, Kathy had written, “Amen!” Heather’s sister-in-law Dana had “liked” the post. I was instantly shocked and so very hurt by this. This felt like another major slap in the face, especially considering we had invited them to join us on this trip out of genuine desire to share in their company and get closer as a family. To top it off, I had been generous to pay for a large portion of Kathy and Jeff’s trip because I knew that they couldn’t afford it and I also wanted them to freely enjoy themselves. It felt like a deep, intentional, betrayal, for this to be posted so soon after we’d dropped them off. We had just been together for 10 solid days. Was this just pure spite from Kathy? I wasn’t sure if it was that, or if she was making sure to send a clear message to all of her church friends on Facebook clarifying that she was definitely not a supporter of gay marriage, even though she had been posting photos that showed her daughter and her daughter’s wife with her on a “family” trip abroad. My heart was, yet again, broken. This time, I felt very strongly that I had to shield myself and my heart from them, at least for a good long while. 

The next day was the anniversary of Obergefell v. Hodges, the Supreme Court decision that made gay marriage the law of the land. I shared an article on facebook and prefaced it with a statement, something to the effect of: “my marriage to Heather hurts no one and brings us much happiness. One would have to question family who did not support gay marriage because it allows us many rights, without which would likely lead to suffering (loss of death benefits, inheritance, rights for medical decisions/visitation).” I did go on to say that I had no place in my life for those who don’t support me.

Yet again, I found myself in a state of grief. Still grieving the loss of Mom, and again I was grieving the loss of the idea of the family that I had grown to love and who I thought felt something for me. I had worked hard to reach a place of forgiveness for what had happened between us in the recent past (the “no photos to family” remarks), and yet again my heart was being stomped on. Yet again I was being sent the message: You are shameful. I felt angry and bitter. I was reeling from the idea that Heather’s mom felt that she had moral authority to spout off about what God thinks about our marriage in a fairly public arena and in a very pointed way toward her own daughter and her daughter’s wife. To put it mildly, I was livid. 

I felt strongly that I needed some serious distance from them, so I began by unfriending and blocking them all on Facebook, Instagram, and other platforms, and I no longer responded to any group texts or even individual texts. I explained to Heather that I was very uncomfortable attending family events for a while, which she understood. Heather had also made the decision to only attend events for her niece and nephew because she felt very strongly about remaining active in their lives and she wasn’t going to stop seeing them just because her family members were acting in hateful ways. We entered what felt like a long, dark period of despair with regard to the family. We pulled back and focused on building a plan for our future, a plan which now definitely included moving.

A couple of weeks later, Heather and I were walking out of the house to take a walk around our neighborhood. We got to the end of our driveway and I saw a white car flying down the street. It hopped our curb and came to a screeching halt with one tire still awkwardly up on the curb. The car actually almost swiped Heather as it flew by us before stopping; I had grabbed her arm and pulled her back slightly to keep her from making contact with the vehicle. Heather’s mom popped out of the driver’s seat and came assertively walking up to us with an angry look on her face. Apparently, Heather’s brother had somehow gotten access to my facebook page and did not like the posts I had made. I had posted something about people who did not stand up to hate during the time of Hitler in Nazi-Germany. The family somehow took this to mean that I was speaking negatively about them (I definitely was not, but if the shoe fits?) or calling them Nazi sympathizers. Kathy walked immediately up to me and angrily placed her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the face as I was trying to wriggle away. In an angry tone she said, “I love you.” I quickly responded with a surprised chuckle, “well, you’ve got a really funny way of showing it.” Kathy insisted, “We are going to talk about this, now.” I had never seen her with this level of angry energy. Usually her demeanor is sugar-sweet. “I will not allow this mess to destroy our family,” she said. All I could think about was her post on facebook, her pleas for us to avoid showing our engagement photos to family. Yet, she was thinking I was the one who was “destroying the family?” Against our better judgment, we decided to try to participate in a conversation. 


	9. Strong Emotions

It did not go well. In fact, it went about as well as I thought it would go, but there were moments of utter shock. Kathy said things that we would expect a staunch Church of Christ believer to say. The ones I remember were:

“I DO believe you both have the right to marry....A MAN!”

"You didn't have to get married. Why couldn't you just get legal documents drawn up? You didn't have to make it a spectacle."

"I'm not here to judge you, God will judge you. And you must fear God."

At one time she told me, "I know you are a therapist and you are just SO smart, and we are just all country bumpkins." She said this while rolling her eyes and annunciating her words. I was amazed at the low levels she reached, the low blows she leveled. I tried to respond without anger or intense emotion, but it was very challenging. I explained to her that we have nothing to be ashamed of; that we deserve to be married and celebrate a marriage just like anyone else, and that even if we got a lawyer to draw up legal documents, this would still be less than marriage and would not provide all of the many protections that marriage would. I wasn't going to argue this point with her because I didn't have to. Marriage is legal for us and we did it. It is done. 

At one point, I tried to explain how we'd been hurt. In an effort help her understand, I tried to compare it with race (although I should have known better because this is another area in which we differ). I explained, "Kathy, it is just as if we were black and you were openly racist. Do you think we'd ever feel comfortable sitting down to eat dinner at your table with you, knowing how you feel about us? Knowing that you see us as "less than"? Knowing that you feel we don't deserve equal rights?" She clearly did not grasp what I was saying because she went on to tell a story about how her parents worked in the cotton fields next to black people. Eventually, I was exhausted and calmly stated that I was going to leave the conversation and retreat to the other room because clearly we weren't getting anywhere. This was when things turned ugly. She dug in her heels. She became more disrespectful of me, continued to roll her eyes; continued to spout her religious nonsense. This is when Heather’s patience eventually ran out. “Get THE FUCK out of my house, Mom.” Both Kathy and I looked shocked and our heads turned in unison to Heather. “You heard me. Get. The. Fuck. Out.” I couldn’t believe this. In all of the time I’d been with Heather, she’d always kept her cool. Never showed anger. Never was rude or hostile to anyone in my presence. It is one of the things I do admire about her. I can be very hot-headed and lose my temper, especially with rude sales-people or on phone calls with AT&T (especially!). But Heather is always kind and patient. However, this seemed justified. I was actually impressed! I was in awe of her response, and PROUD. Kathy made a few more statements about fearing God as we both escorted her swiftly to the door and shut it behind her. We hugged and sat in disbelief over what had just happened. Heather remained steadfast and she apologized to me for the way her mom behaved. We both knew that it was even more important to take some time and space from her family now.


	10. Dear Family

Heather and I wrote and sent this letter in the weeks following the disastrous talk with Kathy.

Dear family,

We are writing this to you in an effort to be heard and understood better after much misunderstanding. When you read this, please try to avoid reading it from a place of anger or judgment, but perhaps you can try as best you can to put yourselves in our shoes.

For much of our lives we have felt different and had to cope with an enormous amount of shame that has come from outside sources due to what we feel are major misunderstandings about what it means to be gay. We each have gone through our own lengthy process of overcoming that shame, accepting who we are, and finding happiness in our lives. This took a great deal of struggle and we still contend with struggles that come from the judgment of others on a pretty regular basis. We shield ourselves from it as much as possible because it is hurtful. We know who we are. We don't believe we are shameful. However, we are still human and can be hurt by words and actions of those who think we are shameful and think that we should be ashamed, or who try to force us to feel shame through various means. We don't feel it is anyone's place to judge us or try to make us continue to feel ashamed because it is our life, our happiness, we aren’t hurting others, and we happen to enjoy our lives very much the way that they are.

When we decided to get married, we wanted to be respectful to the family but also wanted to open the door for understanding if there was any possibility for that. We felt it was important to inform you all of our plans in case there was room for involvement because weddings are important events in people’s lives. We truly didn't know how this would be received, but felt it was not right to proceed without any of the family knowing our plans. This attempt to seek understanding came from a place of true desire to deepen our connections with you; you often say that “we are family” and we want nothing more than to share our lives with you fully. This means being able to be ourselves and be open about our lives with you, without limitations. But, often your judgment of us - knowing you disagree and even feel ashamed/embarrassed of us - makes us feel as if we have to hide aspects of ourselves and our lives in your presence. This feels stifling to us. This makes us feel the same things we have been made to feel for all of the years we worked to come to acceptance of ourselves. It does not make us feel loved, respected, cherished, honored. We feel it denies us a certain level of dignity and autonomy as human beings. It is hard to feel loved and feel judgment at the same time - the judgment blocks the love. Judgement also makes us unable to fully open ourselves up to you in a deep, family way. We are exhausted with being judged and find it so unnecessary because we have always been and always will be gay. It isn't something that we feel is changeable. If we could have changed it, obviously we would have done so to avoid all the judgment, disappointment, pain and suffering that we’ve endured. We aren't asking you to change your beliefs – you may feel that they are not changeable either - but the judgment of us is something that is indeed changeable. You have a choice in how you advance those beliefs, what you do with those beliefs, how you present them in our presence or otherwise in our shared world.

When Michelle sent the initial letter in the mail to Kathy and Jeff explaining that we were getting married and that we wanted to know if they wanted to be included in any way, we got a response back that we felt was very loving. It made it clear that Kathy and Jeff believe a certain way, but that the love was still unconditional and that there was no judgment. This was received by us as a positive response. The letter clearly stated that we should talk more about the marriage next time we got together and this made us feel hopeful that we could at least progress to a more comfortable place within the family with regard to this topic.

After progress was made on plans for the wedding, Michelle sent a few tasteful pictures in addition to more details of the plans for the wedding and family party to Kathy and Jeff via email. Please understand that because we don't believe the way you believe about ourselves, we saw our wedding as any other wedding - something to be celebrated and to be excited about; a major life event; a major commitment to each other. But this time, this email was not well received at all. In fact, the reaction to this letter was the total opposite of the initial letter that was sent. Michelle never got a personal response back from Kathy or Jeff, but instead Heather got an email from Kathy asking that we not send any photos or announcements to family and emphatically stating that no events would be attended at all and that this was not going to change. It didn't specify who we should not send anything to, but simply said "family." This response was extremely hurtful. It made it seem that Kathy was ashamed of us and wished we would just hide ourselves and hide the fact that we were getting married. We knew that certain family members were supportive of us and, as 40+yr old adults, we made our own decisions about who would be open to receiving invites or photos. Besides that, we never, ever intended to send invites to those we knew would not care to get one. This reaction asking us to hide caused a great deal of pain, heart-break, and struggle. There was a struggle to feel comfortable being around family for a while, knowing that we were viewed as such a source of shame or embarrassment. Michelle and Kain also had a difficult interaction in which it was stated that Kain didn't believe in our marriage. Again, we don't feel the need for you to change your beliefs, but we ask that you consider how your statements make us feel. There is not a need to be insensitive and hurtful. And there clearly was a desire for no photos to be sent, but we feel that was not anyone else’s decision but ours to make.

Lastly, we come to the family trip. The whole reason for the trip was to enjoy time together as a family. If you recall correctly, Michelle and Heather had planned on going to Ireland together and invited all of you to come along. This was a bit of a sacrifice we made, knowing how you all feel about us. When you are with us, we know that you sit in judgment of us and, in the past we have changed our behavior to keep you more comfortable. We don't sit close to each other; we don't touch in any kind of loving way; we don't speak much about our lives as we might normally talk with those who accept us. This is a burden on us. It makes us feels bad about ourselves to have to alter our behavior this way just to make you all more comfortable (again we feel that it is implied that we should hide the reality of our relationship). But, regardless, we planned the trip with you all, knowing that we would be making this sacrifice. The trip was actually sort of a honeymoon for us because it was only a month past our wedding when we departed. Can you imagine bringing those who disagree with your relationship on your honeymoon? But we did it because we love you and wanted you to be a part of such a trip.

On the trip we felt we made a good effort to try to tell everyone of our plans and keep in touch over text. Often we would text and get no response at all or at least for really long periods. Heather felt that this was just sort of normal behavior from Kain since he’s not big into texting, but we also felt a negative tension that we were unsure about and we received some text responses right away when asking about other things besides plans for the day. We wanted to have a good time regardless and we knew we hadn't done anything wrong, so we decided to go about enjoying ourselves, all while still trying to keep in touch and invite y'all to join us or ask to join in with you. Something still seemed wrong. We do understand that it is difficult for 8 people to travel together and all agree on activities and schedule. We tried to manage this as best we could, but it was still hard.

Michelle feels she went to some lengths to make the trip the best it could be for Kathy and Jeff. Knowing this was their first time out of the country, and potentially their only time, she tried to assist with a lot of the travel costs so that they would not have to worry about things and could simply have fun. She contributed about $1,500+ towards their travel costs, meals, and activities. She did so with an open heart and a genuine desire to show love and encourage their enjoyment. This is cost is not a burden, so please don’t think that is why it is being mentioned.

On the way home in the airport, Kathy made several statements about Michelle and Heather not doing enough with family during the trip. These statements shocked us, as we felt like we definitely tried to do things with everyone but were not met with the same level of interest. After the first day of the trip, Michelle had suggested to Heather that Kain and Dana meet us out at the pub any evening, just the four of us. We actually were genuinely interested in doing this. Initially, we understood that Kain and Dana would meet us out, but then this got cancelled and never happened, even though there were numerous opportunities. For some reason Kain and Dana did not seem interested in doing this anymore. However, we did feel we made an effort. We also tried to keep up with everyone's plans, but no one seemed to communicate well with us about the plans in a timely manner so that we could plan what we were going to do. Again, we just ended up doing our own thing most of the time.

By far, the worst hurt came when we arrived home. Kathy made a post on Facebook that said something to the effect of "Just because man makes something legal does not mean it is not sin in the eyes of God." She exclaimed “Amen!” in her comment. This post was made in short time after all of us had parted ways at the end of the 9-day family trip together. This post felt like a pointed slap-in-the-face for us, especially considering we are newly married. It was noted that Dana had "liked" the post as well.

In light of all that had happened on the trip, the fact that Michelle had encouraged the trip, been generous, with the genuine intention of helping Jeff and Kathy have the time of their lives, the words that had been said at the airport about us not spending time with the family, etc, this post really felt mean-spirited and especially hurtful. Again, we are elated to be married and are proud of who we are. We understand you disagree with and are even ashamed of or embarrassed by having a gay family member, but it clearly isn't going to change us and those feelings are not about us, but are your feelings to contend with. Do we have to constantly be reminded that you are ashamed or embarrassed? Or that you disagree with gay people and don’t believe in our marriage? All we ask is that you consider our feelings as human beings – and that this isn’t simply a political difference of opinion, but our lives that you are talking about and openly protesting against. We truly do want to love and be loved in return - but continued judgment of us and the pain this causes us has caused us to have to consider removing ourselves from the sources of the judgment and pain. We remain very hurt by the things that were said and posted. We feel very misunderstood and possibly even vilified, as if Michelle has a desire to break up the family. There have been comments made about Jackson and Megan no longer being “exposed to this” and if we don’t behave as you wish, then we won’t be able to engage with the children. This puts Heather in a terrible position to have to consider choosing her family over her spouse.

Michelle understands that the posts she made on Facebook may have also been interpreted in hurtful ways. She also knows that she can be extremely passionate about the topic of gay rights, particularly when she feels judged wrongly or in a mean-spirited way, because for much of her life she has had to defend against judgment and even significant hatred and unfair acts of intolerance that have always come from those who are religious. Please know that Michelle continues to have an invested interest in warm, loving, deep, healthy family relationships with all of you and would not intentionally seek to jeopardize them. She also has a right to defend and protect herself and her own family from what we consider to be discriminatory language.

Please receive our letter with warmth, love, and an attempt to extend an opportunity for further dialogue. However, please also know that we are very sincere about no longer being made to feel ashamed.

Warmly,

Michelle and Heather, Sully, and Duke


	11. Blocked

In the days and weeks that passed, we took our time and distance from the family. At one point, Heather’s brother contacted her to express his disappointment in how we were handling things. I witnessed Heather stand her ground on the phone with him and express her disappointment with how all of the family had behaved towards us. There were statements made about us being gay and Heather spoke very clearly with him about the fact that she was no longer going to compromise herself or hide. I was so proud to see that she was starting to gain more confidence in herself and her ability to set these types of boundaries with her family. I knew how important it was for her to do it without pressure from me.

A few days after her conversation with her brother, Heather noticed that her niece and nephew (at the time, ages 15 and 17) were not returning her text messages as they normally did. She tried to call them and realized that her number was blocked. I tried to text them and my number was blocked as well. We later confirmed that her brother had gone into their phones and blocked our numbers so that we could no longer have contact with them at all. We were shocked by this because we had never done anything to compromise the relationship with Heather’s niece and nephew. We never spoke about our relationship with them or involved them in any of the family drama, not in any way. 

Heather expressed her sadness, but I also sensed her resolve. She saw that she had to stand her ground and, as much as it disappointed her to take this distance from her family, she knew it was necessary. During this time, Heather’s uncle had been ill and in the hospital. He ended up declining further and dying and there was a family funeral. Heather learned of the details through her aunt and made the decision to go. She saw her parents there and they briefly talked. She saw her brother, sister-in-law, niece, and nephew and none of them made eye contact or spoke to her. She determined that the kids were probably instructed not to speak to her by their parents. This was extremely hurtful and cold. She returned home from the funeral and shared this with me with sadness in her eyes. I was in disbelief and it made me very angry that this is how far Heather’s brother would take things.

After these events, Heather grew more and more comfortable with the idea of moving. We discussed the fact that we’d bought this dream home with the hopes of having family over frequently to enjoy it. We had extra bedrooms for her niece and nephew to spend the night with us. We’d even described these rooms as “this is his room” and “this is her room” and at first the kids and family expressed excitement along with us. But now, we talked more and more about how large the house was for just the two of us and our two dogs. We didn’t even use an entire half of the house at all (two bedrooms, a sitting room, and a spare bathroom). We felt the need to downsize to something without the big yard to manage and the upkeep and cleaning of 2600 square feet of space. Heather also reiterated her desire to live closer to the beach.

We agreed that I would apply for a transfer, as I work for the federal government and could apply anywhere. We decided we’d focus on the Gulf Coast area, so I applied for about 10 different transfers. I ended up having about 7 interviews and all but one offered me the job.

The job I ended up accepting was the perfect opportunity: Mobile, Alabama. My father lives in New Orleans, just a little over 2 hours away. Since I had a renewed desire to get closer to my family, especially since losing Mom, this location would allow for that. We decided to focus our energy on the family members who accept us and love us as we are. Our beach condo is located 2 hours away in Miramar Beach, Florida and Biloxi, Gulf Shores, Pensacola, and other nearby beach towns are also short distances. I could keep my military career in Birmingham, as that drive was just a little over 3.5 hours and it was only required once per month. Another perk was that the job in Mobile came with a significant pay raise. The clinic I would go to work for got great reviews from a fellow Army buddy who happened to work there. I would have a female boss who had reached out several times to let me know how excited she was to bring me on board. The situation could not have been much better.

We put our house up for sale in January 2020 and we had multiple offers the minute the listing went live. It ended up going above asking price and we accepted the cash offer with a quick closing. For all of the headache and heartache we’d been through with the house, we stood to profit considerably on the sale after only living there a year and a half. In some ways, we were sad to walk away from something that we’d poured so much energy and love into designing and decorating, but we both felt strongly that it was the right decision for us. We told ourselves, “there will be other houses.” We had secured a loft apartment in Mobile in a nice building close to downtown. It was 1600 square feet with tons of natural light from large windows, a lot of storage space and an extra bedroom and bath for any visitors. We had carefully sifted through all of our closets, drawers, and outside shed. We went through all of our boxes and bins and made great effort to rid ourselves of clutter and things we did not absolutely need. We gave large quantities of clothing, dishes, and other items to the local thrift store that funds the animal shelter. We sold anything of value on Facebook Marketplace and I met buyer after buyer at Whole Foods parking lot just down the street to exchange the goods for cash. We used this money to rent the Uhaul and pay the movers who helped us load everything up in Huntsville and later unload everything in Mobile. I would nervously drive the largest U-Haul they offer (26 feet) while Heather followed in her car behind me. It would take us 6+ hours to get to Mobile from Huntsville with minimal stops to walk our dogs.

Due to very poor planning on our part, we arrived in Mobile at night during Mardi Gras. The route on the GPS took us through downtown streets that just happened to be blocked off at this time due to a pending parade that was winding its way at a snail’s pace. Our new apartment building happened to be on the parade route, which, at any other time may have been a fun benefit. Other than pulling the large truck over in a residential neighborhood and crying my eyes out in frustration, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was dark, cold, and we were both dead tired from packing, moving, and driving since the wee hours of the day. I studied the GPS and took a few illegal turns (I wasn’t supposed to have a truck that large in the residential historic district) and ended up face-to-face with a police officer directing traffic away from what appeared to be the parade approaching from the distance. With tears running down my face and a very dramatic tone, I rolled the window down and leaned out to explain to the officer that I needed him to let me cross the intersection, as our building was just across the street and we were supposed to be moving in tonight. He gave me a perplexed look and seemed to be weighing my words for a minute. “Go ahead miss,” he said as he stepped aside and divided the parade crowd to allow me to cross the intersection. I thanked him profusely as I stepped on the gas and lunged the huge truck across to the parking lot of our new building. The plan was to unload only the things we would need to freshen up and sleep on a mattress on the floor (we’d made sure to load it last). 

The instructions we were given by the apartment manager were that we would enter a code to get in to the secure front door of the building and then we’d find our keys in our unlocked 2nd floor apartment. As much as I searched, I could find no code and could not reach the manager. Luckily, someone let us in to the building. We arrived to our apartment door to find it locked. Exhausted and hungry, there was nothing else to do but find some food and a hotel, which is precisely what we did.


	12. Emotional Lock-Down

We got moved in and I started my new job that following week. I went to Biloxi, MS for a week of orientation and then officially started in my new clinic the week after that. My new boss was very friendly and welcoming, as were my new co-workers. The clinic had just been built the year before, so I had a nice new office with modern furniture and decor. I noted that the clinic was built with the safety of the staff in mind, which gave me a great sense of security compared to my last clinic where I had been exposed to violence and security issues were repeatedly ignored. Also, I already felt a sense of respect and kindness from the staff overall, which was another refreshing change that was different from the toxic environment of the Huntsville Clinic. At this clinic, there was a sense of camaraderie and fun. There was also a great deal of diversity. Staff members tended to gather together at lunch time and talk and cut up with each other, including our boss. I felt I had died and gone to workplace heaven. All of these positive changes, and a raise to boot!

This was late February, and little did we know that a pandemic was just around the corner. Heather had quit her stable hospital job in Huntsville to make the move. We had some money from the sale of the house and we figured that we could survive on my income for a little while until she found a job in Mobile. Mardi Gras parades were happening right outside of our building almost every night. Heather had never been to Mardi Gras before, so she was pretty excited about it. Having spent every summer and many holidays of my childhood in New Orleans, I’d had my fair share of Mardi Gras parades and they didn’t excite me like they once did. However, it was fun to sit back and watch Heather get involved in yelling for beads and moon pies as the floats passed by. It had a familiar feeling for me, but was also fresh and new. I was looking forward to getting to know Mobile better, checking out the food scene, breweries, and events that were unique to the city. But because of Covid, none of that would really be able to happen like we thought it would. 

In March the lock-downs began. Heather’s job prospects dried up completely, as many hospital and clinic employees began to be furloughed or worse. Luckily my federal job was very secure and we had decided to live at or below our means before we made the move. Again, we did have a nest egg, but we had earmarked it for other plans (a down payment on a house, perhaps?) and we certainly didn’t want to have to dip into it just to pay the bills. Also, I slowly began to realize that I was going to have to carry everything financially for an indefinite amount of time and this did bring a sense of stress. Prior to the move, we kept our finances separate. Heather had her income and bills and I had mine. We shared the household bills. This worked best for us. I feared that this new challenge might change some relationship dynamics or cause arguments. I’m a saver and Heather is more of a “spend it if you’ve got it” type. I didn’t know how well that was going to go over now that all of the money that was coming in was technically coming from my paycheck. But at the same time, we were married now and I understood that the situation in which we found ourselves was not anyone’s fault. I understood that this also placed stress on Heather as well. We agreed to keep an open dialogue about it and to try to address issues as they arose.

Luckily our apartment building was a really nice place in which to spend the early months of a pandemic. We had lots of natural light that came through big windows, which helped the winter days seem warmer and more inviting. And there was a rooftop deck that looked out over all of downtown Mobile that was open to all residents for use. We were isolated, but it wasn’t totally unbearable. I learned that one of my co-workers also lived in the building with his partner, so after a while we figured out that we could gather for wine and snacks on the rooftop and this allowed us the opportunity to socialize some (with the necessary social distancing, of course). We ordered-in from some of the local restaurants that we had heard were tasty. We took walks together around the historic neighborhood and waved to people on their porches. We rode bikes around downtown. We would get settled in Mobile, it would just be at a much slower pace than we anticipated.

In the meantime, Heather was keeping up with her family. Her mom would call her regularly and they spoke as if all was just fine. Kathy asked about me and Heather kept her abreast of how things were going at my new job and various other updates. Occasionally Heather would tell me that Kathy said hello. I was still working on trying to find forgiveness and found that I still cringed a little, internally, when Heather would speak of her family to me. The closest comparison I can make in order to describe how I was feeling was that this felt like a really bad breakup. And it felt so strange for her mother to include me, to ask about me, to invite me to an upcoming graduation for Heather’s nephew. They seemed to want to treat me as if I was part of the family, but in my hurt and anger I wanted to challenge them and say, “how am I family if you don’t acknowledge our marriage? If you want to act as if we are “friends”? If you are so ashamed of us as a couple?” Heather knew I was still struggling with things. I knew that I needed to work on it, but it was taking time. I was trying to let go of all of the pain that they had caused. I was listening to mindfulness podcasts, talking to friends (fellow therapists), and trying to work towards internal peace and forgiveness. But, something was blocking me from being able to get there. Even though I tried and tried, I just couldn’t seem to make headway. It felt connected to something within me or in my past, but I did not know what. I also didn’t quite understand how Heather could so easily forgive and act like everything was okay; but I didn’t make it an issue. I had no reason to do so. It was her personal decision. 

One great thing about living in Mobile is that the Gulf Coast beaches are not far away at all. Often we found ourselves with nothing to do, so we would drive to the beach for the day. We did this regularly in March, April, and May, as the chilly weather turned warmer. There were travel bans in place for Florida, but we had beach property there, so we were able to go and spend time away from home, little mini-vacations away. During the time before Covid, we would rent our property for short-term rentals and most of the time it was pretty lucrative because it would stay rented. Again, because of Covid, we also lost this source of income because there was a ban on rentals in an attempt to reduce exposure (however, this was not regulated at all and lots of people broke the rules). So, we did lose that income as well and that added additional stress. However, we balanced that stress by using the property ourselves and making the most out of it. We may not have been able to rent it out and make money, but we could enjoy lots of our own time at the beach as a trade-off. 

It was during one of these beach visits that I received a phone call from my military unit. They asked if I would be interested in coming on active duty orders for a period of time to assist with the military response to the Covid pandemic. This was a great opportunity, as active duty orders are fairly hard to come by for Army National Guard officers in my role. It would mean great pay, great benefits, and more points toward my future retirement (which would mean more in my monthly retirement check once I retire). I emphatically agreed to come on board and immediately contacted my boss at work to let her know that I was going to be going on military leave. At the time it was only for one month, with the possibility of extension. 

I started active duty orders in early May. Near the end of May, Heather took her first trip home to her family - and it was without me. Being on active duty gave me the perfect excuse to stay home. But knowing Heather was there without me left me reeling. While Heather was in Mobile with me, I could separate us from her family. Having her there made it more real again. Also, it worried me that we would develop a pattern of Heather going to see her family separately from me, which to me meant that they’d really never have to face the reality of our relationship and things really would never change. It left me between a rock and a hard place, and I knew it. Here’s an entry from my journal from that time:

5/23/20 - 9:20am. 81F, sunny and humid. Heather is in Huntsville with the homophobes. I guess they are all living it up together, pretending and being “godly” people. She went for Jackson’s graduation, which was last night - says she’ll stay until Monday. I told her to stay as long as she likes. It is all hard and sad to me. I think the last 2 1/2 years just did a real number on me. I can’t seem to find a way to reconcile my feelings about all of it. I’m a big mess of hurt and anger, yet there’s really nothing that can be done to resolve it. They aren’t going to try or talk - there’s this forced silence about it all. It is like I speak Greek and they don’t even want to try to communicate. Maybe it’ll just take time? I thought yesterday about how much it still feels like a really painful breakup after a huge betrayal. It isn’t like I wasn’t close to them at all. I feel we were very, very close. And now: nothing at all. The biggest thing for me is that no one ever responded to our letter. But looking back and re-reading some of the emailed responses to my emails about our wedding, I can see them in a bit of a different light now. I didn’t want to believe that they couldn’t come around a little bit more. But I see now that the really deep crazy religious stuff was totally there and I wasn’t seeing it for what it really was. I was in denial about it because I’d come to care for them so much and I thought the feelings were mutual. I couldn’t imagine people being so very fake. But they really are. They live in their own make-believe world and it is powerful. Each one of them has betrayed me. Heather’s dad and his “outreach” to keep the peace. Out of all of them, he was the one who tried the most - until he completely stopped reaching out at all - and that silence negates everything else that he did. And somehow it hurts worse and in different ways than the others. Kain and his “man of the house” bullshit and his attempt to block his kids from us. Dana - the shell of a person that she is - I’ve never felt anything for her anyway. But Kathy - there’s so much deep hurt there for me. I guess because she’s the mother-figure and I had such expectations and hopes for our relationship. And I am so deeply fooled and betrayed by her two different faces. Two faces that couldn’t be more contrasting: a sugar-sweet, nurturing angel and a shaming, judgmental, bitter critic. I was lured in by the angel and stabbed in the heart by the critic - and not just once! But I kept forgiving and coming back for more!


	13. The Epiphany

Heather returned home right before Memorial Day. I had a long weekend off from duty, so we had time to relax together. She seemed to be her same old happy-go-lucky self (which I love) and seemed to have enjoyed her time away with her family. I came to realize that it was good for us to have the time apart because it gave me a lot of time to reflect on what I was thinking and feeling without her around. This ended up being a good thing because I was able to make some progress - I had a bit of an epiphany - and it had to do with feeling unworthy. 

As any good therapist would do with a client, in the midst of my emotional reflection I asked myself: “When have you experienced this before? What do these feelings remind you of?” At the same time, I had been listening to Brene Brown podcasts and reading some self-help articles. It may sound simple, but it hit me that this was about shame in the form of forced unworthiness. I needed to put this in more of a context before I was really going to be able to grasp it. It was about rejection; being made to feel unworthy of love. I know that I am indeed worthy of love, but somehow their shaming meant that they didn’t believe that I am. I started to step back and realize that I have absolutely no control over that fact and that they may never, ever come to a different conclusion - and that this was okay. It doesn’t mean that I’m any less worthy - it just means that maybe they are dumb. And that they don’t get the opportunity to know me and love me in a deep way. And that is truly their loss, not mine. I want to know people and love people in a deep way; I want to share a special connection with them, but sometimes you can have that with people and sometimes you can’t. And in this situation it is indeed quite a shame, but also just a reality that I was being forced to accept. I realized that it was time for me to practice letting it go, moving on, and find those with whom I could have a deep connection and limit my time or exposure to those with whom I can’t.

Another journal entry from 5/27/20 helps with further context: Today my friend Alexa responded to something that I said and it really made me think. I had said that it hurts so much, especially when you do nothing to deserve it but be yourself. She responded with “Yes! Especially when the reason isn’t something shallow or some limitation, but part of the very essence of your being, like who you love.” I’ve been wrapping my head around this unworthiness stuff. That is SO what it is and what it makes me feel. I’ve still been having little arguments in my head with Heather’s mom because I’m sure she’d come back and claim that she doesn’t feel we are unworthy of love. But then I translate what she has said:

1\. Don’t show pictures or send invites to family = You aren’t worthy of this type of celebration. We’d rather you hide and this embarrasses us and we are ashamed of you.  
2\. We can’t attend any of your wedding events. We feel gay marriage is wrong = Even though Dana was pregnant out of wedlock and we felt this was a sin, we still attended our own son’s wedding, but yours is not worthy of our attention because it is shameful and a sin on a different level - one that deserves total shunning. You aren’t worthy of our love and support in this way. 

There are others, but the overall idea/tone is the same: this is shameful and is unworthy of our participation/love/support. Others in our life deserve our full love and support, but you don’t because you are gay and shameful. 

Yes, again it was a back and forth: realizing that it was unworthiness I was being made to feel, along with realizing the need to begin to let go of my desire to control how they feel and move on, while still having hurt and anger about the fact that they feel this way. But, indeed it felt like I was starting to make progress.

I returned to active duty life after the Memorial Day holiday, which meant time alone in hotels in different cities away from home. During my free time one evening, I decided to FaceTime with one of my dearest friends who lives out West. I still call her Lishman because this is what I called her during our month-long officer training in the desert of San Antonio, Texas where we met 10 years ago. She’s now out of the Army and working in Las Vegas as a Nurse Practitioner. We spent some time catching up because the last time we’d seen each other was a little over a year ago when Lishman came to Huntsville for our wedding party. She knew all about the family issues then, so she asked me for an update. I filled her in on the latest with them, along with my newfound epiphany about being made to feel unworthy. I always tell Lishman that she would have also made a great therapist because she is one of the best listeners and has such a knack for picking up on subtleties that sometimes totally escape me. This conversation was no different. We were discussing Heather and how she’s coping with being in the midst of this turmoil with her family. Lishman said to me, “You’ve really got to admire someone like Heather.” I looked perplexed, I’m sure. She went on: “Heather’s response is still just to live her life but also love them. Well, she’s dealt with this most, if not all of her life. You are only just now dealing with it. She’s gotten to a point at which she lives with it and she can work around it. I mean look Michelle, she’s given them the biggest ‘fuck you’ by getting married and living her life as she wants. I really admire that.” I realized that I really do admire that about Heather too. I often think about what a miracle it is that she survived being raised in such a religious and shaming environment and still grew to be true to herself. Lishman made me realize that it was truly a really big deal for Heather to marry me - and she did it. And for that I’m so very honored and grateful to have her as my partner in life; to have her as my wife.


	14. Walking The Docks

It was now early June and the pandemic was raging. I had been able to extend my active duty orders with an end date now determined to be the first week in August. My time on active duty ended up being a true blessing in so many ways, some ways that I wouldn’t fully appreciate until later, but I was definitely appreciating the added income as well as the assignment: it was not stressful and allowed me to have a good bit of autonomy over my schedule and my duties. I felt very fortunate that I was able to be stationed in my current home town of Mobile, so most of my afternoons and evenings were spent at home with Heather. Heather was still actively trying to find work but jobs in her field were still extremely limited.

Many afternoons, we took some time to go driving around to see more of the area near the coast. We drove over to Fairhope, Daphne, Orange Beach, Gulf Shores. We drove down to Dauphin Island and made our way back from there. We stopped at each marina along the way and walked the docks, looking at the boats and fantasizing of having our own boat one day. This walking-of-the-docks had become a COVID-19 past-time for us and we both enjoyed it immensely. My parents divorced when I was small and they lived in separate coastal towns: my father lived in New Orleans, and my Mom lived in Satellite Beach, Florida. Both of them owned sailboats, so I was able to go sailing year-round. I was a member of the youth sailing club and learned to sail at a young age. When I was 14, my mom and step-father took me out of school for a month so that we could cross the ocean and sail to - and around - the Bahamas and back. This was a wild trip, but the trip of a lifetime. For the last 20 years, I’ve been land-locked, living in non-coastal towns (mainly Birmingham, Alabama and then Huntsville). So, now that we lived in Mobile and the coast was just about in our back yard, I couldn’t wait to get back on the water. 

When I would sail with Dad in New Orleans, we would end the day by walking the docks. Dad and I would walk to the end of each pier and look at all of the different boats in the marina. He would point out the new ones or give me various details about old ones that had been there forever. Dad had been sailing out of that marina since before I was born, so he knew a lot about all of the boats there. At the time I sometimes fussed about having to walk the docks, maybe because I wanted to leave or the weather was hot. But now, it is one of my favorite things to do. I’m also happy to report that Heather loves it just as much as I do. 

So, on this afternoon in June we were walking the docks at the Mobile Yacht Club. This time I was the one pointing out different boats and telling Heather about them. There weren’t many people out on their boats at 5pm on a Thursday, but there were a few and we would wave or otherwise acknowledge them as we walked by. I spotted a boat in the marina that was the exact same type of boat that I grew up sailing on with my Dad and I was so excited to see it. As we were looking at this boat, a man came walking by and said to us, “Do y’all sail?” Heather looked and gestured at me and said, “Well, she does. I enjoy it but am not super experienced.” The guy introduced himself as Eddie. He pointed to a sailboat that had about 3-4 other people on it and said, “We’re going for a sail in about an hour if you’d like to join us.” Heather and I looked at each other and I could see that she was doing the same thing I was doing: we were excited, but also were evaluating the safety of this invitation. We both must have felt comfortable enough because we agreed to meet back at the sailboat in about an hour, which we did.

What we didn’t know was that Thursday nights at around 6pm is when the weekly racing boats start gearing up to race and we were actually going to be acting as crew on a racing boat. I should have known this, but in the excitement of having any opportunity to go sailing again, I overlooked it. We climbed aboard the 29’ sailboat and met the others: Justin, Helena, Frida, Sam, and, of course, Eddie. Sam is a retired college professor, Justin, an engineer. Frida is a CPA and Helena and I have the mental health field in common, as she is also a therapist, but works in private practice in Mobile. Eddie worked as a court reporter, but is also semi-retired. We were given a few instructions on where we would need to sit and what to do when, and we followed these instructions closely. The weather turned out to be gorgeous for the 2-3 hour sail, with a beautiful sunset, followed by a full-moon that was big and high, shining on the water. We talked and laughed so much - it was the perfect evening. We felt like we had made instant friends, just what we had been looking for and needed. The racing was exciting and I could see that Heather was really enjoying it. After we crossed the finish line (I’m not sure what place!) we slowly made our way back into the harbor and docked the boat. Afterwards we walked over to the yacht club and had dinner and a beer and were able to sit and talk with our new friends who promptly invited us to race with them every Thursday at 6pm. We were both beyond thrilled. What luck!

From that Thursday on, we showed up to crew for each race, every week. We quickly became regular members of the team and slowly I started to see Heather building her skills, learning the lingo, taking more opportunities to take on different jobs on the boat. After mastering some simpler tasks, she took on the role of “skirting the headsail” which is quite a job. It involves hanging on for dear life while the boat is healing at a steep angle and crawling to the bow of the boat to help pull the bottom of the front sail over the rail so that it catches more wind (and often it gets stuck on the lifelines during tacking or jibing). I was so proud to see her taking on these roles and to see her eagerness in learning more and trying new things. At the same time, we were becoming part of the yacht club community made up of mostly heterosexual (mostly male) sailing singles and some couples. It was just the shot of joy we needed, especially after the time we’d had in Huntsville and now with the pandemic.


	15. The Call

One afternoon in late June, Heather and I were taking a drive over to Florida just to get out of the apartment. I was driving, while Heather was talking to her dad as we crossed Mobile Bay on the causeway bridge. While she was talking to him, my phone rang. I looked at my phone and saw that it was Heather’s mom, Kathy and my pulse jumped with shock. I immediately showed it to Heather and her eyes got big with surprise. I was not about to answer the call - after all, I was driving and Heather was already on the phone with her dad who was in the same house as her mom. Heather said to her dad, “Hey, do you know why mom is calling Michelle? Does she need something? Does she know you are talking to me right now?” Heather’s dad simply said that he didn’t know. Heather declined the call on my phone and kept talking to her dad. We both looked at each other with questioning eyes as she continued her conversation. I think we were both freaked out by it and it immediately brought up the trauma of the past. The last time Kathy and I had talked, it didn’t go so well. As soon as Heather hung up with her dad, we both said, “What the fuck?” Since Heather had visited her family for the graduation in May, I asked if she had any clue why her mom would be calling me. She indicated that she didn’t, but she had picked up on some indications that her mom was wanting to try to reach out to me and Heather had simply said “okay” and left it at that. “I do know that she cares about you,” Heather said in a loving tone. I explained that I did feel that her parents cared about me on some level, but I still felt strongly about all of the things that had been said and done without any apology or, at the very least, any acknowledgment of our feelings. My thoughts started to race and I felt a sense of stress rising. I had no idea how I might respond to whatever it was that she had to say. I didn’t feel ready to talk to her at all. It really caught me completely off guard.

I continued to think about the call throughout that day and for the days following. I had recently had my epiphany about being made to feel unworthy and although I was still working on finding a way to find peace with everything, I still didn’t really know how or what could help me get there. I didn’t feel right just interacting with them as if everything was okay. Yet, we had tried to share our feelings with them through our letter and got no response. Again, I felt like I was between a rock and a hard place. Should I just decide not to talk to her? Should I hear what she has to say? I knew that it likely would not be anything of substance, but would probably just be niceties and making conversation. She would act like she has with Heather: like there is absolutely nothing wrong. Brush it under the rug. Speaking about feelings or processing anything close to emotion just wasn’t Heather’s family’s style or forte. 

After days of sort of obsessing about the call, I made a decision. I would not take her call. I did not see the point, as anything less than an apology or an attempt to address anything that happened was unacceptable to me. I decided to send the following email instead:

June 23, 2020

Subject: your call

Kathy,

I saw that you tried to call. Heather was talking to Jeff while we were in the car and she declined the call because of that.

Almost a year ago, we wrote a letter to all of you in an attempt to feel heard and understood to which we received no response except angry actions/reactions from Kain and then attempts from everyone to pretend like nothing happened. When you have openly and publicly shared your religious beliefs about our marriage or asked us to hide due to your feelings of shame about us, it has made us feel unworthy of your love and support, unworthy of equal treatment or equal rights, and even unworthy of God's love. At one time, I was very invested in developing deep, meaningful relationships with all of you. However, after being made to feel this unworthiness numerous times, and after no real effort from anyone in the family to respond to what was expressed in our letter, I have decided to greatly limit my contact or investment in any future relationships with all of you. This was a difficult decision and I've been very sad about it, but I don't feel that I have any other option. To continue to be exposed to the hurtful things that have been said and done will only continue to cause me deep hurt and anger and make any attempts we might make for meaningful connections in the future pointless.

I hope you will understand why I do not wish to take your call,

Michelle

After sending it, I felt a big sense of relief. Maybe now I could begin to focus on sailing, building our life in Mobile, and allow myself some time and space from all of that emotion. It felt like I could finally start to let it go. I had said everything I needed to say. I had stated my truth and that was enough, for now. I knew that I wouldn’t have to see any of them again for quite a while and that it would be my decision if and when it did happen. I began to envision being in the same room with them and being okay because I had set specific boundaries and explained why I had to do so. It was what I needed to do to move forward and I started to feel that peace that I’d been longing to feel.


	16. It’s In The Cards

In late June, Heather returned to North Alabama to attend the wedding of a cousin. Once again, I did not go. This was mostly because I was still on active duty orders, but also because I did not feel comfortable being there with everyone. So, once again I found myself alone at home while Heather spent time with her family without me. I couldn’t help but feel a bit down about it. This time alone led me to further clarify what I needed from them in order to make any kind of progress toward reconciliation: I needed 1. For them to acknowledge that they hurt us and 2. I need them to agree to try not to do it again. Their continued silence about the issue told me that they still felt justified in their actions and this was simply unacceptable to me. 

I texted a little with Heather while she was there. She had sent me a podcast by Jen Hatmaker - a Christian writer who has a gay daughter. This podcast was an interview between Jen and her daughter and it focused on the pain of her coming out and the struggles they experienced with other “Christians” who responded hatefully. In the podcast, Jen Hatmaker does everything right to support her daughter. She’s an example of a Christian mother who is loving her child, supporting her, and protecting her from hate. This was something that I really wished Heather’s mom would hear, but I knew it was very unlikely that she would. I shared these thoughts with Heather and she said, “I know.” Heather texted, “I love you. And I love our life together.” I responded, “I’m glad you do. I want you to. I’m really loving our life together lately too. It is getting better and better. I’m still really sad about your family (really sad), but I love where we are now and the life we are building here.” Heather responded, “Me too cutie.” She knows I love it when she says that.

Although it seemed crazy, I never really lost hope that things could change with Kathy and Jeff. But then I would quickly shift my thoughts. I would drift back to the day in our kitchen in Huntsville and some of the crazy religious talk that occurred - and I’d think, “Nah, it is hopeless. She drank the kool-aid and there is no changing it.” But again the hope seeped in. I hoped so hard that there could be some sort of compromise because we were able to be together in a loving way before and I knew if it was there before, it could be there again. I decided that I’d still work to be okay either way.

As Heather was driving home from the weekend away at the wedding, she told me that her mother had mentioned my email to her. Heather was unaware that I’d sent the email, so she asked me more about it. I explained what I had said and we talked more in-depth about my feelings about everything. Heather then called her mom on the drive and they apparently had a long talk. I’m not sure exactly what was said, as Heather did not share many of the details (in typical Heather fashion).

Shortly after July 4th, I went down to the mail room to check the mail in our apartment building. I saw a card with what looked like Kathy’s writing. It was addressed to us both. I was making a quick run to the store, so I sat in my car with the mail on my lap. I grabbed the card and tore it open immediately. My hands were shaking. I nervously read it and then re-read it again and again. I could not believe what I was reading.

“Hey Michelle,

I wanted to write you a letter for how I acted at your home, it was inappropriate, disrespectful, and wildly selfish. My reaction was completely inappropriate and a huge lapse in judgment on my part.

I’ve robbed you of happy memories. You and Heather have always been so kind and shown Jeff and I respect. To hurt you in this way was an insult to all of the things y’all have done for us. I hate myself for that.

I absolutely take responsibility for my selfish actions and for the terrible pain I caused y’all. All I can say is I truly want things to be okay between all of us. 

Hopefully in the future we can find a way to move past this and create happier times together. 

You and Heather are so loved.

Sincerely,

Kathy”

The tears kept coming. I was in shock, but elated at the same time. I had no idea that this awareness or these kinds of thoughts passed through her head. I couldn’t even make it to the store. I got out of the car and ran upstairs to let Heather read it as soon as I walked in the door. Heather’s eyes got very big as she read it and she said, “wow.” We talked, hugged, and I cried some more.

That evening, I sent Kathy an email.

“Subject: Thanks

Hi Kathy,

I received your card in the mail this afternoon. We sincerely appreciate your words and it meant a great deal that you wrote what you did. I too hope that we can move past everything and create happy times together again. I have indeed missed our closeness I once had with you and Jeff.

Love,

Michelle”

We received another sweet card several days later. It was just a nice card saying, “hope y’all are good.” Heather and I sent a sweet card back.


End file.
